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aldersprigI woke alone, I woke blind to the world, and I woke scared.
Those are the things I know about when I woke, and only those, not when nor where nor why I was, or even who I was. I was against a wall, the floor was cold, and I could not see.
And you were not with me. Of course: I was alone. But more than the absence of other breath, other voices in the room was the absence of you.
I found my feet, somehow. I found a stick, a cane, somehow. My body knew the way. I found a door - that was harder - and the sun on my face told me travel west.
But the ache in my gut told me travel east, so east I went.
The bus was going North, so I walked. The police officer that stopped me wanted to take me west, but I talked him out of it. The punks that wanted my money, when they found I had none wanted to take me to their home.
But their home was to the south, so I kept walking anyway. I didn't know where I was going - how could I, when I didn't know even who I was? - but I knew you were there.
"There's nothing to the east," the taxi driver told me. "You can't go there like that." I say taxi drive, like I said punks, because he asked if I needed a ride and told me a price, like the punks grabbed me with hard hands and then handed me back my cane with soft words.
The sun's warmth was gone before I reached my destination, but I could feel the edge of the road with my cane, so I kept walking. Cars would rush by, a gust of wind and a blast of sound, but I kept walking. They'd honk or shout or both, but I kept walking. The night grew cold, but I kept walking.
I didn't know how far I had to go, and I could not see the signs to read them, but I knew you were ahead of me still. There was nothing to do but keep walking, keep walking.
The sun was warm on my face again when a car pulled alongside me. "You can't be here," the woman told me. "The signs say so."
"I'm almost there," I told her, and by that I knew that I was nearly to you. "Only a little longer."
"But you can't be here."
I kept walking. There was nothing behind me, after all, but the dark. And ahead of me was you.
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dailyprompt, 2014-09-10:
If I was blindfolded
If my memory was erased
If every sign pointed
to another place
I'd still find you
For #FridayFlash.
Those are the things I know about when I woke, and only those, not when nor where nor why I was, or even who I was. I was against a wall, the floor was cold, and I could not see.
And you were not with me. Of course: I was alone. But more than the absence of other breath, other voices in the room was the absence of you.
I found my feet, somehow. I found a stick, a cane, somehow. My body knew the way. I found a door - that was harder - and the sun on my face told me travel west.
But the ache in my gut told me travel east, so east I went.
The bus was going North, so I walked. The police officer that stopped me wanted to take me west, but I talked him out of it. The punks that wanted my money, when they found I had none wanted to take me to their home.
But their home was to the south, so I kept walking anyway. I didn't know where I was going - how could I, when I didn't know even who I was? - but I knew you were there.
"There's nothing to the east," the taxi driver told me. "You can't go there like that." I say taxi drive, like I said punks, because he asked if I needed a ride and told me a price, like the punks grabbed me with hard hands and then handed me back my cane with soft words.
The sun's warmth was gone before I reached my destination, but I could feel the edge of the road with my cane, so I kept walking. Cars would rush by, a gust of wind and a blast of sound, but I kept walking. They'd honk or shout or both, but I kept walking. The night grew cold, but I kept walking.
I didn't know how far I had to go, and I could not see the signs to read them, but I knew you were ahead of me still. There was nothing to do but keep walking, keep walking.
The sun was warm on my face again when a car pulled alongside me. "You can't be here," the woman told me. "The signs say so."
"I'm almost there," I told her, and by that I knew that I was nearly to you. "Only a little longer."
"But you can't be here."
I kept walking. There was nothing behind me, after all, but the dark. And ahead of me was you.
To
dailyprompt, 2014-09-10:If I was blindfolded
If my memory was erased
If every sign pointed
to another place
I'd still find you
For #FridayFlash.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-12 02:23 am (UTC)As the song in my head is "Mary O'Meara".
• To user name=dailyprompt>, 2014-09-10:
> ???
no subject
Date: 2014-09-12 10:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-12 07:40 pm (UTC)[Mary O'Meara, the] stars and the dewfall
The second song on this link is unrelated.
This is a different setting, about which I agree with the first comment, "I really prefer the haunting ballad version of this love song." And similarly for this choral arrangement of Passovoy's tune.
I'm wondering where...
Date: 2014-09-13 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-31 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-31 01:47 am (UTC)Yeah, on a re-read I'm not so sure about "punks."